A Promise Worth Keeping
by Luck Kazajian
Summary: Two years ago, Victor Sullivan picked up a scrawny kid off the streets of Cartegena. That kid? Nathan Drake. Nate's as cagey as they come, but Sully thinks he's finally putting a crack in the kid's shield. When a failed mission and a drug-induced nap make Nate recall things he'd rather forget, Sully realized why he's the anchor to the kid's fears. Because someone's got to be.


**This story is a sequel of sorts to my Uncharted fanfiction, "My Brother's Keeper." However, you don't have to read that one first for this one to make sense...enjoy ;) **

**A Promise Worth Keeping**

"Pretty nice place they got here," Nate said, swirling the ice in what was left of his White Russian. (Sully told him kids shouldn't have such refined tastes. Nate drank it to spite him.)

"I suppose so," his companion returned, sounding bored. Nate took a sip of his drink and watched her over the rim of his glass. She was a tall, dark haired woman, maybe five or six years older than his seventeen. Her long, midnight blue dress dipped appealingly low on her back, exposing her shoulder blades and a long strip of tanned skin. She kicked off her high-heeled shoes and folded gracefully onto the middle seat of the couch. "Don't you ever get bored of all the glamour and formality though?"

Nate eyed her for a minute, a girl used to living in riches, dripping in jewels. A girl who'd turned to thievery for fun if Sully's stories were true. And here he was, nothing to his name, pretending like rubbing elbows with millionaires was something he did everyday.

"I could do without the suit every once in a while," Nate shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. He craned his head to look at the library shelves that surrounded them. "But the history? The artifacts? I never get tired of those." He put his glass down on the table beside the couch and walked up to one of the bookshelves, running his finger reverently down the spine of one of the tomes. "Seventeenth century, if I'm not mistaken," he said.

"They told me you knew your history, Mr. Drake," his companion said casually.

Nate stiffened imperceptibly.

"That is who you are, right? Nathan Drake? Sullivan's little prodigy." She phrased it as a question, but she sounded confident. She knew. Well, he could do her one better.

"That's right," he said, turning around with a cocky smile. "Ms. Sophia Tazzi."

Sophia's eyes widened fractionally in surprise, although Nate could tell she tried to hide the reaction. Then she tilted her head, acknowledging his point. "How did you know?"

"A woman willing to follow a gangly teenager into the library for some time alone? Let's be honest, you didn't come for me. You're here for the books." He didn't have to tell her that Sully had pointed her out earlier this evening, or that Nate had a crash course in Sophia's exploits over the past week so he'd know how to talk her up. He walked up to the couch and held out a hand.

Sophia took it and let him draw her up. They were nearly eye to eye when she stood, even without her heels. For a second, Nate wished he were taller and he resisted the urge to make visible effort to stand up straighter. Sophia smirked at him and ran a hand down his chest, following the line of his suit collar.

"You're only half right, love," she said.

Nate raised an eyebrow.

"You sell yourself short, Mr. Drake." She ran her hand back up his chest and hooked it around his neck. "I've done worse than you to get what I want." She winked at him.

"I think I'm supposed to take that as a compliment," he replied, slipping a hand down her back, to rest in the curve of her spine, where the dip in her dress ended. She didn't resist.

"So, what do you say we spend a little time getting to know each other better?" she asked, leaning forward and giving his ear a playful bite. "After all, that is what _you're_ here for, isn't it?"

"Well, that's only half of what I'm here for..." Nate murmured.

"Then you don't want me?" she asked, looking up at him with melted chocolate eyes, lips drawn into a pout.

"I, uh," Nate stammered for a second. She'd put him on the spot and he wasn't entirely sure he knew the answer to that question.

"You're nervous," she giggled. "First time?"

"Of course not," Nate lied through his teeth and cursed the heat rising in his cheeks.

She smiled. "I have just the remedy for that." She turned away for a second and Nate let his gaze follow the slit of her dress.

When she turned back around, she was holding Nate's White Russian in her hand. "Drink up and I'll order us something more...fun." She winked, shrugging one shoulder so that the strap of her dress slid down her arm.

Nate hesitated for just a moment. If he refused the drink, she'd catch on and he'd lose his target. Better to keep playing her game for now. Perhaps he could even get her tipsy, get her to reveal her hand if he played his cards right. Nate reached out and took his glass. "Alright, sure." He tipped his head back, downing the rest of the drink like a shot, even though there was a little too much in there for one swallow. He resisted the urge to cough as he brought his head back up and handed Sophia the empty glass.

"Mmm, that's better," she said, setting it carelessly on the table as she wrapped her arms around Nate's neck again.

Nate felt a little fuzzy, but he brushed it off and put his hands on Sophia's back. She drew closer and Nate bent his head. She tilted her face up, her lips inches away from his. Nate leaned in for the kiss when his legs gave out and he crumpled.

Nate cursed as Sophia laughed and caught him, lowering him to the couch. Nate felt sluggish and disoriented and it was all he could do not to turn into a limp ragdoll.

"Wha...?" he managed through uncooperative lips. The room seemed to grow darker and the world spun around him.

"Don't worry, love, it's just a mild sedative. You'll fall asleep in a minute, but it'll wear off naturally in about an hour."

Nate tried to call her names, but his lips refused to listen to his brain as he felt sleep drag at him out of nowhere. He had to settle for glaring at her with as much anger as he could muster.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, sweetie," she said as she bent to retrieve her shoes. "I couldn't let you walk away with the goods." She walked over to the bookshelf and plucked the book Nate had looked at earlier from its place, tucking it under one arm. "Besides, you're a little young for my taste. Come back in a couple years though and I might give you another shot. You do look dapper in a tux. Ta ta!" She blew him a kiss, though the effect was ruined by the shoes dangling from her fingers. "Oh!" she added, as if an afterthought. "Don't worry, I'll make sure Sullivan knows where to find you."

And then she was out the door.

The darkness pressed in again and it felt so...inviting. Resisting was pointless. Nate was asleep in seconds.

* * *

Sully found the kid right where the bored maitre'd told him he would. Asleep on the couch in the library. He knew Nate wouldn't decide to take a nap on his own, so something had happened to him. Sully checked Nate over for any obvious injuries and made sure he had a pulse. The kid was breathing steady, so probably a sedative or tranquilizer of some sort. Not much to do but wait, then. Sully settled into a chair across from him and lit a cigar. He'd give Nate twenty more minutes and if he didn't wake up by then, Sully would go find more professional help.

At the fifteen minute mark, Nate stirred and opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, looking confused.

"Have a nice nap?" Sully asked.

Nate inhaled sharply and turned his head, squinting over at Sully. "Sully?" he mumbled.

"Right here, kid."

"Where am I? What's going on?" Nate sat up slowly, awkwardly, like his limbs were too heavy. Drugged, definitely.

Sully sighed. "Oh, kid, she did you one over, didn't she?"

"She…?" Nate looked even more confused.

"You're in the library, at the Derringer Estate," Sully said patiently. "You were in here with Ms. Sophia Tazzi, trying to charm information out of her."

Nate deflated. "Right," he agreed. Sully wasn't sure if that meant he remembered what he'd been doing an hour ago or if Nate just agreed with him because it made the most sense.

"She love you and leave you?" Sully asked, noticing the empty old fashioned glass on the end table.

"Just the leave part," Nate muttered.

Sully stood up. "Well, I guess there's no more reason to stay in here then. Up you go." Sully held out a hand.

Nate reached up and took it and Sully hauled him to his feet. Nate staggered and half fell. Sully steadied him.

"You ok, kid?"

Nate put a hand to his head. "I'll be fine. It's not the first time this has happened to me."

"When was the first time?" Sully asked, surprised. He knew Nate had never been drugged on his watch before.

"Cartagena," Nate said curtly.

"Oh, I see." Because that was all Sully could say about Cartagena. The Cartagena _before_ Nate picked his pocket and stole Drake's ring out from under his nose. Nate clammed up whenever Sully asked him about _before_, so he settled for knowing that it was something the kid would only tell him on his terms.

"Well, then," Sully cleared his throat. "Let's get you home. I think maybe we should take the rest of the day off."

"But Sully, what about the book?" Sully wasn't sure if it was genuine concern or the drugs talking, but the look of worry on the kid's face was enough to pull anybody's heartstrings.

"Ah, don't worry about the book, Nate. We can find that again later."

"But all the work you did," Nate protested weakly.

"_I _did?" Sully laughed. "Hell, half the work was yours, kid. But hey, you win some, you lose some. Today we lost. Tomorrow we get our revenge. Whaddya say?"

Nate nodded although he didn't look convinced. "Revenge. Right." He sounded distracted. Whatever the girl had put in his system still had a hold, even though Nate was alert enough to be awake. Sully felt bad for him. He suspected the worst of the physical effects would come later, when the disorientation and confusion wore off.

Sully put an arm around Nate's shoulders and guided him out of the estate. A few concerned partygoers asked if Nate was ok, but Sully just laughed it off as his teenage son having a few too many. "You know how kids are when they aren't supervised." They all politely agreed and gave him and Nate their distance. At least underage drinking was the last thing on the minds of the criminally rich and famous.

On the car ride back to their hotel, Nate was unnaturally quiet. Sully wasn't sure if it was his perceived failure, the drugs, or something about _before _troubling him, but it was obvious from the frown between his brows that Nate wasn't ok.

Sully knew better than to ask about it, whatever it was. Nate would only talk when he was ready. It was worse when he was hurting. Then he preferred to be left alone. Sully learned that lesson shortly after he picked the kid up. He'd pried too hard after something in Nate's past and Nate ran. The kid came back looking guilty but none the worse for wear and Sully had made him promise not to run away again. Nate had made him promise not to ask too many questions again.

Sully sighed, casting a sideways glance at Nate. He'd keep that promise.

Grudgingly.

For now.

* * *

That night the kid had another one of his nightmares. He hadn't had one in about a year. The first few weeks after Sully picked him up were the worst. Nate would wake almost every night in a cold sweat, breathing hard, a panicked look in his eye until he realized where he was. Until his eyes settled on Sully, who'd spent a couple of nights dozing in a chair by Nate's bed to make sure the kid was alright. He never asked Nate what he dreamed about and Nate never told him, although sometimes he talked during the dreams. Up until tonight he'd only shouted things like "No!" and "Don't!"

But tonight he screamed. A name. Sam.

Sully was awake in an instant, adrenaline coursing through his veins, the sound of a scream echoing in his ears. He instinctively reached for his Wes-44 before realizing it was only Nate.

Nate shouted, tossing in his sleep. That name again.

"Sam. Don't leave me. Sam!"

The kid sounded like he was crying. His voice hoarse, ragged.

Sully rolled out of bed and walked over to Nate's bed. He needed to wake the kid up. Not least because he didn't want him disturbing the whole hotel. He reached out and grabbed Nate's shoulder, gently. Cautiously, because one time Nate had nearly punched him for this.

"Nate." Sully shook him. "Nathan. C'mon, wake up, kid."

Nate was awake with a gasp, gripping Sully's arm like a drowning man with a life preserver. "Sully?" he rasped. His breath came heavy and he was drenched in sweat, as if he'd been running.

"Yeah. It's me, kid. It's alright. It was just a dream."

Sully could see Nate's eyes, wide and white in the pale streetlight filtering through the thin curtains. It was just enough to let him see the abject terror on Nate's face. Nate bit his lip and Sully knew he needed a moment to himself, so he gave Nate's shoulder a reassuring pat and slipped away, heading into the tiny kitchen of their hotel room. He rummaged in the cabinets until he found a glass and some aspirin, then filled the glass with water and walked back into the bedroom.

He could see Nate's silhouette outlined against the hotel window, sitting hunched on his bed, head in his hands.

"Headache?" Sully asked.

Nate nodded.

Sully set the aspirin on the bedside table and pressed the glass into Nate's hand.

Nate stared at the glass for a long moment.

"This isn't...?" he began, looking up at Sully.

"It's water, kid," Sully interrupted.

Nate's attempt at a wry smile was more of a grimace. But he threw his head back and swallowed the aspirin. He washed them down with the whole glass of water, then stared at the empty glass, rolling it between his hands.

Sully pulled the room's lone chair away from its desk and straddled it, resting his arms on the back as he watched Nate. It was crazy, really, how much Nate had changed in the past two years. He'd filled out since Sully found him, gained some muscle, and started spiking his hair in the front. He looked older and some days Sully nearly forgot he was still a kid. But now, with his damp hair plastered to his forehead, wearing a faded pair of pajama pants, he was that skittish boy from Cartagena again. Lost. Hurt.

"So, who's Sam?" Sully broke the silence.

Nate froze, hands gripping the glass tighter, lips pressed together. He didn't look at Sully, just stared straight ahead.

"Where'd you hear that name?"

"You shouted it in your sleep."

Nate was quiet for a long moment.

"You don't have to tell me, kid," Sully said gently.

At the same time Nate blurted, "He's my brother."

"Your...brother?" Sully asked dumbly. That wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. He'd always assumed Nate didn't have any family.

"Yeah," Nate said, the word sounding strangled.

"And he…?" Sully trailed off, unsure of what exactly to ask about Nate's brother.

Nate shifted uncomfortably, reached out with a shaking hand to put the glass on the bedside table. He sat back, unconsciously putting a hand to a scar on his right side, low, near the hip. At first, he'd taken obvious pains to hide it from Sully. When Sully finally had seen it, Nate refused to tell him how he got it, although Sully had his suspicions.

"I got shot," Nate finally said.

"By your brother?" Sully's eyebrows flew up.

"No." Nate looked up sharply and there was something defensive there. Something...protective.

Sully suddenly remembered how Nate sometimes ended up in stitches after running when he was first met him, bent over, clutching at his side, gasping for breath. Sully had just assumed Nate wasn't accustomed to all the running, but - "Damn, kid, you mean I picked you up after a gut shot and you didn't tell me?"

"I was fine by the time you found me," Nate insisted. "It'd been a few weeks by then. The doctor had already pulled the bullet out and stitched me up."

"Who took the stitches out?" Sully demanded, thinking he knew the answer.

"Me," Nate said.

"Hell, kid."

"I didn't have money for a doctor, Sully. And I knew I couldn't leave 'em there. It didn't hurt nearly as bad as you'd think. I made sure of that."

Sully raised an eyebrow. "Vodka?" he asked.

"Whiskey," Nate shrugged.

Sully whistled.

They lapsed into silence again.

"Your brother," Sully began, watching Nate carefully. Nate didn't protest so Sully continued. "Where was he at this point?"

"Gone," Nate sounded choked up.

Sully took a breath to say something, but Nate forged on, surprising him.

"It was our first real job together. We were trying to get the ring." Nate raised a hand to the leather tie around his neck, the one with Drake's ring. The one he never took off. "Sam bargained with a local man named Timon to help us pull the heist. He would supply manpower in return for lifting whatever he wanted. Except the ring." Nate swallowed. "I didn't like Timon. He spiked my drink the first time we met. I think it was because I showed him up."

"Like tonight, with Sophia?" Sully asked.

Nate looked up, brows drawn in anger, then he shook his head. "Yeah, I guess I showed her up too," he said.

Sully laughed. "That's not what I was asking."

"Oh, you mean when I said I'd been drugged before? Yeah, that was it," Nate said.

"You gotta learn to pick your fights more carefully, kid."

Nate shrugged. "Then teach me to pick 'em better, old man."

"Touché." Sully chuckled.

Nate stared at the floor for a long minute. "There was a girl," he finally said, picking up his story again. "She belonged to Timon. Sam brought her back to the convent one night and things got...heated. After that, he tried to make it up to me. Told me we'd pull a two-man job behind Timon's back and make off with the ring. But Sam couldn't keep his mouth shut and Timon beat the truth out of his girl. He met us that night at the warehouse. I got shot and we didn't make it out with anything."

Nate fell silent again. He looked like he was struggling for words. Or struggling not to cry.

"And Sam?" Sully prompted.

"He...blamed himself. For me getting hurt. And he...left."

"Thought he'd protect you better if he were gone, huh?"

Nate nodded, eyes closed. He bit his lower lip until Sully saw blood well up at the corner of his mouth. He was tense, every muscle in his body pulled tight, hands clenched into fists, chest heaving as he fought what Sully suspected were tears.

Sully got up out of his chair and walked over, sitting on the bed beside Nate. He wasn't quite sure how best to comfort Nate because he didn't want to overstep the carefully constructed boundaries Nate put up. Even though Nate had all but destroyed those boundaries tonight, Sully wasn't sure exactly what that meant. So he settled for putting a hand on Nate's shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

It caught them both off guard when Nate turned into him and buried his face in Sully's shoulder. Sully felt the tears soak his shirt sleeve, the only indication Nate was crying. After a minute, Sully awkwardly put his hand on the kid's back, patted him a few times. What did you tell a seventeen year old kid when he bared his life to you, then cried on your shoulder? Sully found himself at a distinct loss for words. So for once, he didn't speak. He just sat with Nate and let him cry.

"Sully?" Nate asked after a few minutes, the words muffled in Sully's shirt.

"Yeah, kid?"

"Promise me something?"

"Hmm?"

Nate sat up and looked Sully in the eye. His eyes were dry now, if a bit red. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, looking a little surprised when his hand came away bloody. Nate licked his bitten lip. "Promise me you won't leave."

"Where would I go, kid?"

Nate's pained expression told him that was too light of an answer. "Sully, I-"

"I promise," Sully said. "When I said I'd take you in, I meant it. Do I know a thing about raising a kid? Hell, no. But I think we're doing just fine. And when Victor Sullivan tells you something, you can bet your last dollar it's hard truth, Nate. Trust me. I'm not going anywhere, son."

The word slipped out, natural, smooth. It was the first time Sully called Nate _son_ outside of a ruse. It wasn't like Nate had ever told him not to, but somehow it never felt quite right. Until now. Until tonight. Tonight there wasn't anything else he could say. Because tonight he realized he'd picked up this lost stray for keeps.

Nate gave him a tentative smile. "You mean that?"

"I've never meant anything more sincerely in my life, kid."

Nate's smile broke across his face and Sully found himself nearly choking up. Because it was the first genuine smile he'd seen on Nate. He hadn't realized it before, but he'd never seen a smile actually reach those blue-grey eyes.

Sully chuckled. He'd just made a promise that would tie him to the kid for the rest of his life. But this was one promise he didn't mind keeping in the slightest.


End file.
